DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the events or characters from the film Thor, nor MARVEL'S The Avengers – I am just borrowing them for play.

WARNINGS: This pairing will contain Dom/sub elements, simply due to the nature of their respective roles and also because of the perspectives I perceive as present in the relationship. Though unsure about the extent of Mature Content this fic might delve to include, the elements aforementioned above include:

petting, hand-feeding, irrational possessiveness, public displays of ownership, and subservience

These chapters are excerpts from my series Compare and Contrast the Following – they cannot be read without the context provided there.

Despite Circumstances

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This excerpt is from Enlightening Nuances, Chapter Eight: Taut. An alternate beginning and ending to the first scene.

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Chapter Two: Reassurance

"I can see why Fury chose you," Loki praised, bright eyes assessing, "but you are mine now." His frame was wreathed in bright blue as He stalked nearer to Clint's prone figure. "I will not allow you to escape me so easily into hands that will not care for you properly." He grasped the archer's chin in one hand and forced him to crane his neck back so to draw their eyes closer. "Do you understand me, pet?"

"Yes, sir."

Clint's knees suddenly weakened and his God caught him, an arm wrapping around the small of his back. Where the two were pressed together there suddenly was a deep burn, and he could see the purple and orange and green flames licking from his God's core and through him, the magic akin to the edges of fingernails scraping through his muscles and over his nerves. The assassin's head tilted back as he struggled to breathe, gasping when the fingers under his jaw lengthened and warped into claws, sharpened nails digging into the skin under his ears and lower, at his side as well.

"You have heart," He crooned, pulling him closer still. Disregarding anatomy and physics it seemed as though the possessive hold around his back sunk into his core as His mind and magic and thoughts seeped into his mind. The azure mist encircling them wafted downwards, thickening at their feet and draining into the ground below.

A smirk pulled at His lips at His hold on Clint, proclaiming, "My Hawk."

"Master."

Clint's eyelids snapped open, his pupils dilated in shock as he sat up violently in the dark of his room. Jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, he attempted to steady his trembling breaths, his thoughts awhirl within his still sleep-fogged mind. He reclined to lean against the intricate headboard, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before resolutely tossing off his covers and easily navigating his way into the adjoining ensuite, reaching to drag the dimmer switch upwards slightly to gently illuminate the area.

He leaned his hands on the marble countertop and peered at his reflection, the perceptive storm-grey of his irises staring back at him instead of the bright azure he feared. He ruffled his hair with a sigh as he lowered the lights again and stepped back into his room, pausing by the edge of the mattress for a few minutes before a scowl twisted his lips and he continued on, past the remaining components of his section, to the door.

It swung open on soundless hinges and he stepped over the threshold, bare feet cushioned by the carpet of the floor's common and the fabric of his plaid, cotton pajama pants not allowing a rustle as he crossed the room and entered the elevator. There's no point trying to avoid Stark's AI's watch, though there are probably no blind spots to make use of, the assassin thought as he pressed the button for the 92nd floor.

Arriving too soon for his liking, he cautiously moved into the common room presented to him. Halting, Clint cast his eyes from the door on one side of the space to that opposite it. Lingering for a few minutes more, he finally began to sidle towards the one on the right. Should just ask Jarvis, he thought, though having already dismissed the idea due to the hope that the computer's attention was elsewhere, its attention only called if magic or intruders triggered its sensors.

Upon gingerly grasping the doorknob, a brief touch not unlike that of static-electricity traveled through him. He released the object instantly, guessing that Loki had erected some sort of spell over the door. He stood statuesque for a period of time afterwards, awaiting a violent defense or the noise of some movement from the other side. When neither were forthcoming, his eyes narrowed in suspicion before he decided to grab the handle again and enter without caution.

Again, there was no resultant retaliation, and Clint wondered whether he had imagined the sensation. He could still be in the wrong half. Taking care to step carefully so his footfalls were silent upon the hardwood flooring, he crept through the area until he neared the bed. Silky black hair revealed that the choice he'd made had been correct, but he didn't know what to think of that. There's no connection left – I wasn't pulled to him. It was a fifty-fifty shot, that's all.

The Trickster was facing away from him, lying on His side but with His chest twisted to face downwards so to bury both arms underneath the pillow and lay His head atop it all. Clint watched the constant rise and fall of the covered torso for a moment before relenting and announcing, "I know you're awake."

A smirk pulled at Loki's mouth as his eyes opened and he leisurely rolled onto his back, greeting, "Good evening."

"Didn't think you were the type to nestle into a pillow," Clint remarked, adding, "You got a knife under there?"

"Clever deduction, pet," he praised, propping himself up on his elbows. A black t-shirt clung to him as the sheets fell to his waist, a contrast to Clint's shirtless form.

He pursed his lips at the endearment, but didn't voice an objection. After all, He'd only asserted His position and intentions last time in response.

"Was there something you needed?" Loki questioned.

"Just making sure you're not up to anything."

"Oh, really? That excuse may be able to persuade your fellows, but you have felt the extent of my knowledge of seidr and know that if I were up to something you wouldn't be able to find any evidence of it, darling."

Clint grit his teeth in aggravation and retorted, "Jarvis'll have this recorded – Stark'll crack down on your cloning so he knows when only half of you is here."

"That presumes he can decipher it," he pointed out. "But I've nothing to fear, since I'm not up to anything."

"You just like pissing me off then – not that I'm surprised."

"Mm, well your reactions are intriguing… But it's more to keep you aware of my powers, as well as train you so you know how to deal with anyone powerful and intelligent that opposes your little group."

"I don't need you," the archer spat somewhat ambiguously, collectively referring to the exercise as well as the god's intent on protection, even the Trickster in general.

"I think that's a lie," Loki answered promptly. "Why come to me now, hm? I assume I feature in the dreams that caused you to awaken-"

"Don't flatter yourself-"

"-and yet without my presence here you would be tormented further, wouldn't you? Having the oppourtunity to see my present state provides you with an anchor for the now, instead of the past. There's no point in denying it."

Clint remained silent, index and middle fingers of his left hand twitching as he restrained the impulse to tap his thigh to relieve the disquiet he felt. Loki observed him with his head tilted slightly to one side before he asked, "Would you like to remain here?"

"No," he countered instantly, glaring at the god before turning and striding from the room. He wasn't a child to be coddled after a nightmare. The suggestion wasn't even considered for a fraction of a second.

Loki's piercing eyes rested on his hawk's figure as he exited, his wards notifying him of the assassin's silent leave of the floor, before he settled back down onto the bed, smirk lingering on his lips.

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